


The Four Times Hyperion Holmes-Watson Was Just Like Her Father (And the One Time She Was Just Like Her Dad)

by nicolietheface



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Children, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Parenthood, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolietheface/pseuds/nicolietheface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyperion Holmes-Watson is just like her father: cold, calculating, and quite nearly cruel. But there are some times, just some, where she's just like her dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four Times Hyperion Holmes-Watson Was Just Like Her Father (And the One Time She Was Just Like Her Dad)

**Author's Note:**

> So, This was just a little thing that popped in my head one day, and Peri's become my baby. I kind of picture her as Elizabeth Gillies in my head, but that's just me. Please review! EDIT: I NEVER thought that I'd have to say this, but really, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Rachel Johnson sighed. She would never understand why her boss constantly felt the need to intrude on his brother’s family’s life. They obviously didn’t appreciate him trying to look after them, and every time he tried it did horrible things to his diet.

“Come now, Gwenlyn,” Mr. Holmes said, pulling her from her thoughts and made her look up from her Blackberry. “Hyperion is much more reasonable than you give her credit for. She isn’t Sherlock.”

“I know, sir,” Rachel replied, turning back to her e-mails. “It just concerns me sometimes.” She glanced out the darkly tinted windows as the car pulled up to the kerb outside 221 Baker Street. The sidewalk was empty spare a young couple walking. The door to 221B whipped open and an angry young girl stormed out, dressed in jeans and a striped shirt, carrying her coat on her arm and trying to tie her boots while still walking. Before Mr. Holmes could open the door, she stomped over and yanked it open.

“Hyperion,” He said conversationally.

“You are not a taxi. As hard as it may be for you to believe, you. Are. Not. A. Taxi. You are my creepy uncle that sends his minions to car parks to watch me while I’m at school. Which, I might add, is a _public_ school, so that’s really bonkers in the first place.” Rachel was constantly in awe of how a girl so young could sound so authoritative. She was only sixteen, yet she could silence anyone with a glare.

“Yes, love, I know that.” Mr. Holmes said. “But between you and your father, you’ll go broke from taxi fare within the month.” Rachel glanced up, knowing this wasn’t true, and then went back to her typing.

“We both know that’s not true. Now what do you want, Uncle Mycroft?”

“I simply want to spend a bit of time with you, dear. As hard it may be for _you_ to believe, I’m interested in what happens in your life.” A beat of pause.

“Oddly enough, I find it incredibly easy to believe. Take me to Scotland Yard, then.”

Rachel moved to the seat opposite Mr. Holmes, who moved over to make room for Hyperion.

“Hello, Violet.” The young woman said. “Oh, wait, that was last week, wasn’t it?”

“Gwenlyn this week, Miss Holmes-Watson.” Rachel looked up and smiled politely. Hyperion smiled back and reached down to tie her boots.

“Gwenlyn… I like it. Bit medieval, but very nice nonetheless.”

“Hyperion,” Mr. Holmes said firmly. “Please talk to me.”

“About what, Uncle? School? Dull. People? Stupid as ever. Home? Father still refuses to stop experimenting on my cat Gallifrey. Nothing ever _changes_.”

“I’ve been seeing you with a boy lately…”

“You mean Dexter? My bloody _best friend_? Honestly, Uncle Mycroft, we’ve only known each other since we were seven years old, but I’m chuffed to bits to know you’ve been paying so much attention while you’ve been keeping tabs on me via CCTV.”

Rachel bit her cheek nervously. While Mr. Holmes wasn’t the type to get needlessly aggravated, Hyperion was very much like her father in that she was one of the few people able to really, truly exasperate Mycroft Holmes.

Sometimes Rachel missed when Hyperion was still young. She used to be so much sweeter; she was more like her Dad then. She liked it when people called her Peri, and she always greeted Mr. Holmes with an enormous grin and a hug.

 _“Uncle Mycroft!”_

 _“Peri!” He scooped her into his arms. “How’s my favorite niece?”_

 _“Uncle, I’m your only niece.”_

 _“So that means you can’t be my favorite?”_

 _“You’re sweet. I guess you’re my favorite uncle too, then. But Aunt Harry is still my favorite aunt, is that okay?”_

 _Mr.  Holmes smiled, glancing at his brother. Despite himself, Sherlock was smiling. Rachel smirked. It wasn’t very often that she- or anyone for that matter- saw Sherlock Holmes give a genuine smile. She hoped that she would see it much more often now that Peri was older._

“I only do it because I care about you, Hyperion.”

“Kidnapping one from in front of their home isn’t exactly screaming ‘I love you’.”

“It isn’t kidnapping if you came willingly.”

“Like I would have gotten away if I tried.”

Rachel heard Mr. Holmes sigh and looked up. She could practically see and feel the tension in the air. It was rather disconcerting, to be perfectly honest.

“Are you ever going to give me a chance?”

“Probably not, no.”

Mr. Holmes ran his hand across his face.

“It’s like it’s your goal in life to upset your Grandmummy.” The car pulled up to the kerb in front of Scotland Yard and Hyperion pulled her coat on.

“Uncle, if you really require my assistance, you can reach me by text and _ask_ if I am available. If you do not…well, I would prefer you associated with me purely for practical reasons. Gwenlyn,” She nodded at Rachel. “I’ll be considering you a witness to this request. Now, I’ve got business to attend to. Off out.”  She got out and slammed it behind her.

“She really is quite a bit like her father, Mr. Holmes.” Rachel said quietly.

“Oh Gwenlyn… you really have no idea.”

\--------

David Anderson scowled. He had seen the black car up, but it didn’t concern him in the slightest until he saw the unmistakable pale skin of a Holmes. He rushed out into the main office and called out.

“Everyone be on alert, Baby Freak’s on her way up.”

Sometimes, and only sometimes, did David regret calling Hyperion ‘Baby Freak’. Sometimes he saw John Watson and reminded himself that there was a normal half to her upbringing. Sometimes he saw the girl when she was a distressed mess, looking for one of her parents, and reminded himself that she, unlike the freak, actually expressed emotions.  Sometimes he thought about the fact that she was best friends with Lestrade’s son, a perfectly normal teenage boy. And sometimes he thought about the first and only time Hyperion Holmes-Watson heard him call her ‘Baby Freak’.

 _“Excuse me?” she had said, red hot fire creeping up into her cold blue eyes. “_ Baby Freak? _”_

 _David and the others around him looked sheepishly at their cups of coffee._

 _“Anderson, I can tell by the bloody creases in your forehead that you have done much_ freakier _things- and not in a good way- when cheating on your wife with Inspector Donovan.”_

 _The fourteen year old had then proceeded to finish making her tea, tell David to ‘sod the hell off’, and strut into Lestrade’s office to wait for John to pick her up._

He had made sure that she was always out of earshot since then.

David made eye contact with Donovan and they had a silent argument as to who got to greet Hyperion. Sally won. David joylessly walked over to wait by the door where she would come in and picked at his nails until the door opened.

“Anderson, I’ve no need for you and your funny little brain, where is Inspector Donovan?”

“Hello, Hyperion, nice to see you too, anything I can help you with?” David said, deadpan. All he received from this was a sneer and a roll of the eyes.

“I’ve no time for pleasantries, now where _is_ the good Inspector?” She peered around him. “Her desk is empty.”

“Perhaps she went off to the loo?” Hyperion sighed.

“An illiterate seven year old could have told me as much. Please take your brainlessness somewhere else.”

She swished past him, her coat waving behind her, and left him standing there like a fool. He rubbed his forehead and mumbled.

“Like father, like daughter…”

\--------

Sally Donovan winced. She would know that bounce of curly brown hair anywhere, and it was bobbing up and down impatiently in front of her desk. It was like she couldn’t go to the loo without something entirely unpleasant happening. She tried to turn around before she could be spotted, but Hyperion Holmes-Watson saw her before she had a chance. Sally restrained herself from gnashing her teeth and walked over to her desk.

“Hello, Inspector Donovan,” the tall sixteen year old said, using her _please give me what I want_ voice. “Have you seen my father?” Did the girl think that Sally was psychic? Well, maybe she did. She certainly seemed to be, maybe she assumed that others were.

“Which one?” Sally asked calmly.

“Father, not Dad. Dad’s at the surgery.”

Sally remembered when she was first told that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were going to have a child. She was appalled. Who would agree to thrust a child into a home like that? Once she found out that the surrogate was Watson’s sister it made a bit more sense. She did owe the kid a bit, though. After she was born, she saw practically nothing of Freak for almost six months, and Watson a year more. Then, one day, one very quiet day, there the three of them were.

 _“Hello, Sally.” Sherlock said when they walked in._

 _“Hello, Sherlock. John.” She nodded. She may have been a bit of a bitch to them when they were on their own, but  she couldn’t find it in herself to do so in front of their daughter. Even if she was only a year and a half old._

 _“Lestrade asked us to come in, have you seen him?” John shifted the baby to his other hip._

 _“Yeah, I think he’s at lunch right now.”_

 _“Ah…” He replied quietly. “Well, this is Hyperion. Peri, for short.” The little one reached out for Sally._

 _“No, no, love.” Sherlock said with a smirk on his face. “Wouldn’t want to bother Sally. Too much.”_

 _“Can you say hi, Peri?” John said with just as big a smile on his face. The child buried her face in her Dad’s chest for a moment and then waved._

 _“Hi Sally.” She said, her little voice clear._

God. Hyperion now had this _tone of voice_. Like you were a complete imbecile and nothing you said could change the fact. Sally took a deep breath and clenched her jaw. “That’s terrible for your teeth, Inspector, really.”

Sally looked up. Hyperion was looking down at her nails, utterly disinterested in her reaction to the statement. How could she even tell when she was-? Never mind.

“Hyperion, I’m very bus-”

“We both know that’s a load of rubbish. Now if you hadn’t beaten around the bush and rold me where Father’s trumped off to as soon as I asked, I’d be in a taxi and you’d be able to sit down and do the paperwork that Chief Inspector Lestrade dropped off for you.”

“Fulham. Bishop’s Park. And I don’t have paperwork from Lestrade?” Hyperion nodded towards the corner of Sally’s desk. “Oh.” She picked up the folder and started flicking through it. “So why didn’t you just text him? Your father?” Hyperion sighed lightly.

“He didn’t answer his texts, so his phone’s more than likely dead.” She took out her own and flicked through it for a second. “Thank you, Inspector. By the way, you’re going to want to get started on that paperwork.  It’s going to take a while.” She smiled, turned around, and strolled out of the office. Sally scowled towards the door. She was getting to be more and more like the Freak each day.

\--------

Greg Lestrade groaned. He should have known that this was coming. It had scarcely stopped since Hyperion Holmes-Watson turned sixteen. She constantly wanted to be there to help her father. She had even cut school a few times to accompany Sherlock to a case, which he didn’t seem to have a problem with. Then again, she was probably ahead of everyone in her class, he’d think she could afford to lose a few days. Greg certainly couldn’t complain, though he had every right to. Hyperion could be there when John couldn’t, but she was sixteen. She was a brilliant girl, so Sherlock didn’t feel like he needed to insult virtually everyone that walked by, but she was sixteen. She had noticed some things that Sherlock Holmes himself seemed to miss, but she was _six-bloody-teen_. He broke every rule there was when he let Sherlock in, and John for that matter, much less their teenage daughter. He tried to push these thoughts out of his head as the angular young woman bounded towards the tape.

“Good afternoon, Chief Inspector.” She said when they met. She smiled at him, and Greg couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. Hyperion was a bit confusing like that. “Where’s Father?”

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” He inquired as he lifted the tape to let her in.

“Very good point. Oh, and could you tell Dexter that I may not be able to make it tonight, since I’m going to be helping with everything?” Lestrade nodded, wondering what Hyperion and his son had planned for tonight. He remembered the exact moment that he figured that they would be best friends. She was only eight years old, and his son was nine.

 _“Dad!” Dexter yelled as he ran up, dragging a little girl behind him by the hand. “This is my friend Peri. Her name’s Hyperion, but she says that it’s too long and people make fun of her sometimes for it, so she goes by Peri.” Greg laughed quietly and kneeled down in front of the two kids._

 _“I actually know Peri, Dexter.”_

 _“Really? How?” He looked between the little swarthy girl to his left and his dad._

 _“Her parents and I work together.” Peri nodded._

 _“If you’da told me that your last name was Lestrade I could’ve told you that, Dex.”_

 _“Well excuuuse me!”  The pair laughed. “Dad, can Peri come over? I can help her with her homework and we’ll be good!” He scrunched his hands together and put on a pleading look._

 _“If it’s okay with Peri’s dad, it’s okay with me.”_

 _“Yes!!” The duo high fived and ran off in the other direction, towards John._

They had always been inseparable. They may have never done things that most people would consider normal, but they seemed to have fun. He never really saw her that much, but she didn’t have a smile on her face when she did. However, he always heard laughter coming from Dexter’s room.

She was so much like Sherlock it was exceptional.

\--------

Sherlock Holmes smiled. He knew that it was only a matter of time until Peri showed up to assist him. He was very skeptical at first when she told him and John that she wanted to help with cases- John tried to forbid it outright, conceded when Sherlock suggested that it would improve her deduction skills, and barred her from seeing the actual corpses- but after the first case she backed them on was solved within five hours of the trio arriving at the crime scene, John realized just how useful she would be. He was still against her seeing corpses though. They would have to edit their stories a bit.

“Hello, Father.” She rose to her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. __

“Hello, Peri.” He smoothed her hair, pulled back into a ponytail so as to not contaminate anything. “Ginger Leveck. Thirty seven. Stabbed in the heart. Proceed.” Hyperion looked up at Sherlock nervously, as she had never practiced deduction on a bona fide corpse. She took a deep breath, kneeled down, and examined the woman.

“She has an even tan, so she’s been on a sunbed recently… and her nails are painted, but they’re two different colors and it’s only on the index and pinky fingers of her right hand. Perhaps a calling card of her murderer? And…” She sighed and stood back up. “That’s all I have.” Sherlock smiled.

“You’ve done worse, dear. See in the crook of her arm? There’s a small prick in the skin above the median cephalic vein, but there are no scars from previous injections that would indicate diabetes or drug addiction. Therefore…”

“She… was dead… _before_ she was stabbed _?_ ” Sherlock smiled again at the correct answer. “Brilliant…” she said. “But why? Why would you poison someone and then stab them in the heart? Could the murderer perhaps be… sending a message? Maybe Miss Leveck here… broke his heart? Right? He could be trying to send a message like that?” Sherlock furloughed his brow. Peri didn’t usually try this hard to confirm that she was right. She was clenching her right fist, which she only did when she was aggravated.

“Are you all right? You seem distressed.”

“What?” she tucked a non-existent lock of hair behind her ear. “No… what makes you say that?”

“You’re trying much too hard to be correct and you’re clenching your right fist.” She sighed in defeat.

“Uncle Mycroft showed up at the flat when I was about to leave. Not distressing, just annoying.”

Sherlock gnashed his teeth. He was going to have to give his brother a firm talking to and tell him that if this happened again, he’d be going to Mother. He remembered when it annoyed him more than it did his daughter. Peri had had an early day at school, which he and John had managed to forget about. They showed up at the school only to be told that her Uncle had come to pick her up, which provoked a deep, murderous noise from Sherlock’s throat. After they assured the woman that she didn’t need to phone the police, they made their way to Mycroft’s townhouse.

 _“Daddy!” Peri yelled as she ran out of the sitting room and launched her six year old self into John’s arms._

 _“Hello, darling.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her tight. “Your father and I are so sorry, we forgot that today was an early day. We’ll make it up to you.”_

 _“Oh, you don’t have to make it up to me, Daddy! Uncle Mycroft helped me with my homework and let me watch telly after we were done.”_

 _“That’s wonderful, my little Treasure.” Sherlock kissed her head.”Why don’t you and Daddy go outside and you can tell him about your day? I need to talk to your Uncle for a moment.”_

 _As soon as the pair were gone, all the warmth in Sherlock’s eyes vanished._

 _“You are_ never, _” he said dangerously, “to remove Hyperion from school unless given express permission by either John or myself. Is that understood?”_

 _“Brother, I was merely trying to h-”_

 _“I don’t care. Hyperion is our daughter and we are to make out own mistakes. She would have been fine at the school with her teacher, who would have called soon enough. Goodbye, Mycroft.”_

“Peri. If you weren’t distressed, you wouldn’t be fidgeting with your hair when it was already in a ponytail, nor would you be talking as fast as you are. What happened, love?”

“Uncle Mycroft is just being weird. He’s like, ‘As hard as it may be to believe, I’m interested in your life’. Which does make sense, he’s my uncle after all, but you’d think he could just effing call or text me, rather than showing up at the flat and having me pile into his car with his assistant. Plus, I feel really bad that I had to cancel on Dexter because of the case.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Father, I don’t know why I’m dumping this on you.” Sherlock shook his head.

“I’ll deal with this. I’ve done everything I can here anyway.” This wasn’t, strictly speaking, true, but he had a sufficient amount of information to give to Lestrade and he knew that if Peri wasn’t home soon, John would know that she accompanied him to a crime scene. If that ended up being the case, there would not be a fun conversation. “I’ll list my observations and yours off to Lestrade and then we’ll get a taxi and head home. Does that sound like a plan?” Peri smiled and put her arm around his waist, then walking back out to Lestrade. Sherlock spouted his deductions while Peri rested her head on his arm. Once they were in the taxi on their way home, Peri curled her arms around Sherlock’s waist and snuggled into him.

“I love you, Daddy.” Sherlock smiled and stroked her hair. She was more like John every single day.

“I love you too, my little Treasure.”


End file.
